WHO'S IN THE KITCHEN & WILL WE SURVIVE?

What is it about holidays that brings out the "best of times and the worst of times".  Great to see family and enjoy a great meal and fun activities.  Followed by the often inevitable attack of the bugs. Winter in close quarters allows people to mingle and share all the germy little creatures that we are blessed with.  As with all traditions, we share more than just fellowship and food.  Garden and patio parties are much healthier as we can cough, sneeze and spit into the healthy outdoors. Just as the buggies seek warmer places to snuggle during the winter so do people. Close quarters allow things to grow and fester.  Ewww.  And little people are great transporters. They're kind of like two sided tape by both carrying and catching whatever is nearby.

I am usually the first casualty which if it gets bad enough I get over my guilt at skipping my "intense" exercise routine.  Then Burt falls victim - though he blames me.  A couple of days of drugs and I'm good. However,,,,, his becomes entrenched in his chest leading to extreme bouts of coughing, gagging, blowing... well you get the picture.  At any rate even I cannot expect him to continue the cooking chores - for my own protection - and really he is pretty sick. 

Ok - I can cook, I think but I'm not big on planning.  Consequently I have become the Queen of casseroles. Several cookbooks are consulted and then I decide if I have the necessary ingredients on hand. Of course not, so I improvise.  Chicken stock instead of chicken broth is probably the mildest infraction.  Ok and pie crust instead of crescent rolls for the lattice top - it's the same thing right? Some of my other substitutions could be lethal but in small doses are ok. Or leaving stuff out of the recipe shouldn't make that much of a difference right?  Then when I presented my latest presentation he confesses he can't taste anything anyway.  Hmmm. To test this theory I made a Mexican style meatloaf loaded with salsa, picante and a whole can of green chiles.  Couldn't taste a thing but he did compliment me on the nice firmness of the loaf (his meatloaf usually) falls apart. Of course he doesn't know I was using the meat thermometer on Celsius which read 98 degrees and I needed 160 Fahrenheit so technically the meat was over 200 degrees.  Damn straight it held together.  Actually I don't think it tasted too bad.

At any rate, I hope he gets better soon.
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THANKSGIVING MEMORIES

Thanksgiving was a little different this year as we did not make our usual madcap dash to the northern reaches of Michigan on Thanksgiving morning. We had this annual trek down and usually traveled up Thursday morning in plenty of time to make the annual food fest. My two issues in winter - bad roads and darkness. Watching the weather reports dictates a Wednesday night departure or Thursday am.  Light wins. Often we would return the following day as our Saturday bowling league rarely enjoyed a holiday respite.

There were some harrowing trips Wednesday evening, Thursday or Friday mornings as the weather in late November in Michigan is nothing short of unpredictable.  Nothing says family time than facing blowing snow directly in your face for four hours as you count on the tiny reflectors on the side of the road to keep you centered. Or the exciting trip after an ice storm where you swore the tires were coming off the car as we hit ridge after ridge of ice at a speed not conducive to rough roads. I still credit my death grip on the armrest that brought us safely through the storms. That and not letting our little buddy get nervous in the backseat that we were inches from death. Eventually the older generation started spending the winters in warmer climes and were anxious to hit the road before the really nasty weather struck. Hence Thanksgiving became our Christmas with the northern contingency.

We round robined at first with each family hosting at a restaurant offering a Thanksgiving buffet in their respective towns until it became difficult for some to travel. The last several years were in Rogers City, a town not known for its plethora of restaurant offerings. Thus it was possible to drive for four hours north and then another hour and a half to get to an open restaurant. Which to country folks is the norm actually. Things started to change as the youngest generation started to grow up and trips often included extra guests which turned into family or other commitments. The final couple of years included the first little great grandchild to add to the joy and Christmas gifts that we got to play with!

This year was different for a sad and difficult reason. The last Grandma passed away the previous November so that generation is officially gone. It's time to start new traditions and be open to different realities.  We enjoyed our meal with our own little family - daughter, son-in-law and grandson at our house, using the dining room actually. We tend to be kitchen counter, small kitchen table people. The dining room allows me to use real china and all my fancy little serving pieces. Of course, someone always dumps a glass of water, etc. This year it was me.  Little Joe keeps us focused on the here and now and grateful for family no matter who is at the dinner table. New customs and growth are inevitable. Traditions change, laughter doesn't stop, life goes on, and that's how it should be.